


Sugar, Cream, Cake, Love

by matchamarimo



Series: All's Fair In Love and Baking Showdowns [1]
Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Aged-Up Character(s), Baking Show AU, I luv first year squad so so much, Kind of enemies to lovers, M/M, Minor Hinata Shouyou/Kageyama Tobio, Minor Iwaizumi Hajime/Oikawa Tooru, Minor Yachi Hitoka/Yamaguchi Tadashi, Misunderstandings, all's fair in love and baking showdowns, everyone bakes and everyone cooks
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-09
Updated: 2020-01-09
Packaged: 2021-02-20 08:55:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,291
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22181344
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/matchamarimo/pseuds/matchamarimo
Summary: Nobody actually watchesSuper Sugar Warsfor the baking—they watch the show for the never-ending snark and banter between the two favourite judges: experimental pâtissier Kuroo Tetsurou and cupcake genius Tsukishima Kei.
Relationships: Kuroo Tetsurou/Tsukishima Kei
Series: All's Fair In Love and Baking Showdowns [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1642504
Comments: 63
Kudos: 587





	Sugar, Cream, Cake, Love

**Author's Note:**

> You know when you want to write other things but your brain goes "no you don't you want to write this :3c" and then you write it? Yeah lmao.
> 
> The show this is loosely based on is Netflix’s ‘Sugar Rush’! Also, everything is obviously scripted on those shows but for the sake of fiction let’s pretend there’s a fun element of surprise in every round. Featuring soft first-year squad post-timeskip, recipes that definitely aren’t real, and the misunderstanding of the century.
> 
> Enjoy :)

“I can’t take it anymore!”

There’s a very pregnant pause on the other end of the line, and then Tadashi says, “Why hello, Kei, yes, I’m doing very well, thanks for asking. Oh, what’s that? _Yes_ , I _am_ in the middle of stacking a four-tier white chocolate velvet wedding cake, the one for the bridezilla that’s been giving me and Hitoka piles and piles of trouble. But no worries, no worries at all.”

He must be on speaker, because he can hear a soft laugh and a light, “Hi, Kei-kun!” from the other end of the room.

“Hi, Hitoka,” Kei grits out. “And hello, Tadashi. _I can’t take it anymore_.”

“Mhmm,” Tadashi hums, probably already tuning Kei out, damn him. “Really? What’d he do now? Oh wait, don’t tell me, he tried to incorporate some kind of wacky fruit into this episode’s challenge. I’m gonna guess a tamarind.”

“Are tamarinds considered fruits?” he hears Hitoka ask.

“Huh. I think so? They grow on trees, right? Oh, wait, no, I’m changing my guess to durian! Durian!”

“Tamarinds are fruits, and no, he is not trying to incorporate durian either,” Kei snaps. “The bastard wants fire. Fire! He wants the bakers to set their desserts on fire!”

Tadashi bursts out laughing, the sound tinny on Kei’s cell phone. “Whoa, really? That actually sounds kinda neat.”

“Don’t be stupid,” Kei hisses. “It’s the worst idea ever. Fire is dangerous. It needs to be contained. And it’s got nothing to do with baking outside of the oven! Does he have no respect for kitchen safety?”

“Are we talking about the same person here?” Tadashi asks, amused. “Dangerous and crazy desserts? It’s his calling card, y’know? His whole brand. You can’t ask a man to just rebrand himself.”

“Can too.”

“Can not.”

“ _Can too_.”

“Uhm, sorry to interrupt,” Hitoka says, and interrupts with mirth anyway. “But we really do have to double-time this cake, Tadashi-kun, or Amori-san will really get angry.”

“Ugh, yeah, you’re right,” Tadashi groans. “She’s the ultimate _zilla_ of the bridezillas. Sorry, Kei! Can’t talk now!”

“You are useless to me,” Kei replies, petty, just because he can. Tadashi has the nerve to laugh at him. “See you for brunch, Hitoka.”

“Bye, Kei-kun!”

“Take it easy!” Tadashi shouts. “And please, for the love of god, quit dragging Kuroo’s hair on national television! You know it’ll only make him rag on your glasses! You guys are like preschoolers!”

And then they hang up.

Kei glares down at his phone, grinding his teeth. Loathe as he was to admit it, Tadashi wasn’t wrong, but like hell he’s going to let Kuroo get away with flashing that stupid, snarky, shiny grin of his and that monstrosity of a hairdo and get all the attention with his annoyingly flashy desserts that aren’t even desserts because desserts are desserts and _nobody should be incorporating dumb elements like fire or glitter or plants or_ —

“Tsukishima,” Ennoshita calls, peering from behind the towering set piece and interrupting Kei’s silent seething. “We’re back on in five.”

“Be right there,” Kei says, and shoves his phone back into his pocket. He straightens his cardigan, manages half of a deep breathing exercise, and creeps back out onto the set, where Kuroo Tetsurou stands in all his smarmy glory, chatting up the competitors as they bake and schmoozing with the crew.

Shimizu comes up to him when Kei settles back into his seat behind the judging panel and gives his makeup a quick refresh; Ennoshita is calling for places and giving additional instructions into his headset by the time she’s done.

“There,” Shimizu hums, giving one quick swipe of tint across his lips. “If you can, try not to bite your lips so much every time you talk to Kuroo-san. You’ll smudge it off.”

Kei nearly chokes. “Sorry,” he mumbles, but Shimizu just smiles and bustles off, leaving Kei blushing and cursing a certain someone.

And speak of the devil.

“Ready to taste the cupcake round, Tsukki?” Kuroo asks, sliding languidly into the chair next to Kei’s. He stretches, arms pulled over his head and legs taut, like a damn cat. Kei scowls at the way Kuroo’s shirt rides up ever so slightly, revealing a pretty defined six-pack. What the hell, how does he find the time to bake and stay fit?

“Obviously,” Kei replies, pushing his glasses up the bridge of his nose. He folds his hands neatly in front of him, determined to show the competitors what an actual judge and professional baker should really look like, but his aloofness doesn’t deter Kuroo in the slightest.

“Might I just say that that colour looks absolutely wonderful on you? Makes your lips look completely ravishing.”

“Kuroo!” Kei hisses, face burning, just as Ennoshita shouts across the studio.

“Alright, let’s get it rolling, folks! Camera 2 please!”

Kei barely manages to pull himself together before he has to look directly into Narita’s camera. Kuroo grins impishly beside him as they listen to their host, Sugawara, begin his usual recap of the Cupcake Round.

“Alright bakers, for the first challenge, we wanted you to create a fresh dessert that re-imagines makeup supplies as cupcakes! First up, we have Imayoshi-san.”

A young woman steps up and shakily distributes four cupcakes to the panel.

“Hello judges,” Imayoshi says nervously. “For this challenge, I’ve created a refreshing green tea cupcake with mung bean paste filling and a creamy aloe-infused frosting. Green tea, mung bean, and aloe are all very healthy antidetoxiants and some of my personal favourite face-mask essences.”

Kei stares at the pale green cupcake before him; the gelatinous aloe frosting wiggles in a truly disturbing way as he sinks his fork into it. Jesus Christ.

Not for the first time, he regrets letting Kuroo and his crazy baking ideas in on the creative reins of this trainwreck of a show.

* * *

(Except, it’s not a trainwreck, because despite the first season airing with a meager eight episodes, Kei and Kuroo’s unrelenting banter, sarcasm, and witty zingers over how desserts should be done had single-handedly made _Super Sugar Wars_ one of the Baking Network’s most popular segments. Somehow, for some reason, watching two grown professional bakers bicker and squabble is amusing entertainment for the masses, and like hell if the station isn’t going to milk it all for what it’s worth. For one thing, it’s definitely getting way better ratings than the show Kei started out on when he signed with the Baking Network.

And that’s how Kei finds himself as a permanent judge on the next season, and the season after that, _and_ the season after that with Kuroo, self-proclaimed experimental pâtissier, absolute bastardizer of the sacred baking arts, and public enemy number one on Kei’s shit list.)

* * *

“My vote goes to Nakamura’s cupcake. Had the strongest flavour, the best crunch, and an overwhelming taste of black pepper. It’s feisty. I like it.”

“Are you serious?” Kei snaps. “There are so many ways he could’ve tackled that fried chicken and incorporated it into a better cupcake.”

“Yeah?” Kuroo prods, a shit-eating grin on his face. “And how, pray tell, would you have done it?”

In his peripherals, Kei can see Ennoshita directing Fukunaga to zoom in on their expressions. He glares hard at Camera 1, trying to melt the lense with his irritation alone.

“Not rely on just the batter of the chicken to carry the taste, first of all. The cupcake is dry from the deep-fryer and all that pepper was a misstep. Also, using just the fried skin of the chicken as a topping was too literal and not creative at all.”

Kuroo tuts, easing back into his chair so he could smirk through his bangs at Kei. “I’d say the pepper was a daring move. Fast food is gonna be overwhelming no matter what. He made the choice to go hard and I think it paid off. I know you’re not into big flavours, but you gotta live a little, Tsukki! Spice things up in life!”

“Why don’t you shove some spice up your—”

“Alright! Hinata!” Sugawara interrupts, deftly stopping them from going too far off the rails. Ennoshita had been waving at them furiously to cut that shit out, but Sugawara is great at herding them back on track. He’s like a babysitter, except more feral. “Who has your vote?”

Kei has no idea why Shoyou is a guest judge for this episode. He’s a rotisseur on their sister network’s grill show with Tanaka and Nishinoya, and knows virtually nothing about baking and pastries.

“I like the fried chicken cupcake!” Shoyou yells, and Kei covers his face with his hands and groans. “It was _sooo_ good! Like _wham_ ! _Pow_ ! And _rarrgh_!”

“ ‘Rarrgh’?” Kuroo repeats, but he’s smug because that’s two votes for Nakamura’s godawful Kentucky Fried Chicken cupcake in their fast food themed round, and together they out-vote Kei.

“I am the only one with taste on this panel,” Kei grouses, and glares pointedly at Shoyou. “You only liked it because of the meat!”

“Yeah, and?” Shoyou says, tilting his head cutely to the side. Kei has to do more deep breathing exercises again as Sugawara turns to Camera 3 and tells the imaginary audience that the judges have made their decision, and that they’ll bring the bakers back into the studio.

Kuroo’s watching him with amusement, snacking thoughtfully on a piece of fried chicken. “Did I mention I liked the crunch?”

* * *

Believe it or not, once upon a time, Kei had liked Kuroo.

Years ago, when Kei and Akiteru’s cupcake bakery _Moon Cakes_ opened up in Sendai, Kuroo was gaining traction from Tokyo as a Youtube and Instagram baker for his crazy, stunt-like desserts that popped, bubbled, and did all sorts of wild and wacky things that entertained viewers of all ages. His profile was filled with pictures of creations like a glossy, futuristic dome dessert, a magician’s hat cake that levitated thanks to a magnetic platform, and (Kei’s personal favourite) a beautiful, four-foot tall chocolate birdcage filled with hand-crafted fondant flowers, songbirds, and delicate sugar gemstones.

Kei wasn’t a flashy person—he preferred the solid, universally-beloved flavours associated with cupcakes and worked hard to turn those simple flavours into the best versions they could be—but he could appreciate Kuroo’s artistry. If he were honest with himself, he actually enjoyed the dramatic flair and the underlying genius it took to pull off all those desserts.

And then he made the mistake of watching a taste-testing video Kuroo made with some dumb, gimmicky Youtuber whose content was mostly swearing and moronic pranks and shock factor. He should’ve known it would all end badly; hell, the title of the video was ‘Trying Girly Things My GF Swears Tastes Good’.

_“Mm, kinda boring,”_ Kuroo had laughed after taking a bite of Kei’s favourite strawberry shortcake and vanilla cream frosted cupcake, _Moon Cakes_ ’ blue and silver packaging lying open on the tabletop. _“It’s not bad, but what’s the point of baking if you’re not going to use big flavours?”_

Kei still remembers the way his chest went cold, and the way his heart squeezed tight.

He stopped watching after that.

* * *

“Now, Kuroo, please tell our bakers what the theme for the final Cake Round is!”

Kuroo reaches out, wiggles his fingers over the silver platter on the table before them, and whips the lid off with flourish.

Ennoshita’s muttering into his headset again, clearly directing his camera operators to zoom in on the remaining two bakers’ faces; their looks of shock and confusion will soon air on national television in HD.

“Bakers! For your final Cake Round, your theme is just like Tsukki over here—”

“Hey!”

“— _spicy_!” Kuroo crows, and Kinoshita does a close up of the ensemble laid out on the platter, which includes everything from jalapeño and cayenne to ghost peppers and capsaicin extract. “Your challenge is to create a cake based on your preferred spicy dish—the hotter the better! I want you to make us sweat!”

“You have three hours on the clock,” Kei adds, trying to ignore the uncomfortable twinge his stomach feels from just smelling the spices alone. “Best of luck to both of you.”

The two bakers dash off to their respective stations with a small crew of camera operators and boom mic operators and technicians chasing after them, leaving those at the judges’ table to sit back and relax for a few moments.

“So,” Kuroo says conversationally, plucking a truly heinous Naga Viper pepper from the platter. “Here’s the million dollar question: what would you make for this challenge?”

“Does it have to be a cake?” Sawamura asks.

“Nah, we all saw the birthday cake you tried to make for Suga-chan,” Kuroo stage-whispers, making Sawamura flush and punch him in the shoulder. “Stick with whatcha know, bro!”

“Why and how do you talk like a Dr. Seuss character all the time?” Kei sighs, and for some reason it manages to startle a genuine laugh out of Kuroo.

“I’d do a chocolate chilli tart,” Sawamura muses, because while he’s no good at baking cakes he makes a mean, mean pastry dough and these adorable little fruit tarts that Kei has secretly swooned over before. “Organic cacao chocolate mixed with heavy cream and finely minced bird’s eye chillies, and top it off with a fresh crème fraîche with a sprinkle of jalapeño juice and lime zest.”

“Mmm,” Kuroo sighs, actually licking his lips. Kei follows the motion unintentionally before snapping himself back out of it, because hello! Public enemy number one! “What about you, Tsukki?”

In his mind, Kei already knows exactly what he’d bring to the table for this challenge, but he takes his time answering, letting Kuroo pout at him when he’s gone silent for too long. “A salsa habañero cupcake with a lime cream frosting, and a salted lime garnish.”

“Salsa?” Kuroo says. “Hmm. Not my first choice for a cupcake; it sounds _wet_.”

Kei glowers. Of course Kuroo would nitpick his dessert, but what else is new?

“The moisture will come from a perfect cupcake batter with a hint of applesauce and the habañero peppers as filling. I’m not _actually_ mixing salsa into the cupcake.”

“Now _that_ would be daring,” Kuroo laughs, and Kei’s scowl deepens.

He opts to ignore Kuroo for the duration of the Cake Round, instead exchanging baking tips with Sawamura and furiously texting Tadashi and Hitoka under the table.

_[Sent: do you think it would kill him to not rip on my cupcakes for ONE DAY]_

_[Received from Y. Tadashi: lol what’d he say to piss u off now]_

_[Sent: I’m not pissed off. I’m justifiably annoyed.]_

_[Received from Y. Tadashi: yeah and Im the prime minister of japan :P ]_

_[Sent: rude punk]_

_[Received from Y. Tadashi: whiny baby]_

_[Received from Y. Hitoka: boys, behave :) Tadashi-kun, stop teasing Kei-kun. Kei-kun, stop overthinking things, you know Kuroo’s just messing with you.]_

_[Sent: I couldn’t care less about his opinions, he’s an egotistical jerk who loves to provoke other people and his dumb desserts are a farce.]_

_[Received from Y. Hitoka: You know, Kei-kun, despite everything you say, I get the feeling you actually care quite a lot about what Kuroo thinks of you. :’) ]_

_[Sent: …]_

_[Received from Y. Tadashi: LMAO LMAO LMAO LMAO LMAOOO]_

Three hours pass by in a flash, and before they know it the cakes are baked, plated, and Kei has two red-hot monstrosities before him.

“Judges, I’ve made you a mapo tofu-inspired, three-tiered baked flourless cake,” their first finalist says earnestly. “The filling is made from a spicy bean sauce with a dash of homemade chicken broth, and the frosting is a chocolate ganache mixed with ground Sichuan peppercorns and hot chili oil. I’ve also decorated the top with fondant tofu cubes for an authentic look.”

“Thank you, Yamato-san,” Kei manages. His nostrils flare at the sharp, pungent scent of spice. “Next up, we have Sato-san’s creation.”

“Judges, my cake is a spicy Korean kimchi ramyeon genoise cake, with a mashed ginger and kimchi filling and a red-hot gochujang frosting. I’ve also piped ramyeon to decorate the sides and added a fondant poached egg and scallions to ‘garnish’ my cake.”

“Lord give me strength,” Sawamura says under his breath, and they dig in with no small amount of trepidation and regret. When their finalists leave the studio for the judges to deliberate, Kei isn’t sure he can feel the inside of his mouth anymore. 

“Is _this_ daring enough for you?” he asks Kuroo, heart pounding like he’d just sprinted across Tokyo. He’s also certain his tongue has burned off, because there’s no way it’d still be attached to his mouth after eating all that spice. Someone from the stage crew runs to get them milk, and Kei prays for them to hurry up. Kuroo grimaces, pushing his plates of cake away as he sweats profusely.

“I’ll admit, this one was too crazy,” Kuroo pants. He smiles at Kei, still unfairly good-looking despite the redness in his face and the actual tears coming out of his eyes. “Let’s— _hahh_ —never do this challenge again.”

“Deal,” Kei replies immediately, animosity momentarily put aside in the face of mind-numbing spiciness. He blames the fresh heat that blazes across his face on the disgusting cake creations when Kuroo nudges him companionably with his shoulder, his chuckles a soft sound beneath Sawamura’s desperate wheezes.

“Mmm, this is actually pretty good,” Sugawara says between bites of the mapo tofu cake, because he’s the craziest of them all and should be identified as such. “You guys gonna finish yours?”

* * *

Tobio is one of the few, truly classically-trained chefs on their network. Not to say that the rest of them don’t have the credentials to back up their creations, but Tobio apparently not only went to school in the States, but absolutely aced it at the C.I.A. and went on to immediately get his own show, _King of the Kitchen,_ on the network _and_ open up a restaurant in Japan the moment he returned.

They also hated each other at first, but after an unspeakable incident involving dairy products, a rogue mixer, and approximately two hundred pounds of raw oysters in one of the walk-in refrigerators, they’re kind of friends now. Near-death by cold, slippery oysters tends to do that to people.

“How many more weeks of filming do you have?” Tobio asks. He’s slowly stirring the pot over the stove, occasionally throwing in pinches of this and that to the mixture as Kei sits at his kitchen table and doodles cupcake designs into his notebook.

“Probably three or four more, depending how many re-shoots Ennoshita wants for the judges.”

Tobio smirks. “You mean depending on how much footage you make unusable by the amount of f-bombs you shout at Kuroo whilst filming,” he says, and ladles the hot soup out into two bowls.

“He deserves them,” Kei says savagely, accepting the bowl Tobio places before him. The broth is thick and creamy and smells wonderfully of seafood.

“Alaskan crab and seafood bisque with organic sherry wine,” Tobio introduces, and Kei doesn’t hesitate to dig in. He’s a firm believer of showing one’s enjoyment of a dish rather than spewing rhapsodies about it alone, and Tobio’s creations are one of the few that he really enjoys (not that he’d ever admit that out loud, he’s got to maintain his pride). “You know, you guys could probably save Ennoshita a few grey hairs if you’d stop going postal every time you have a disagreement. It’s too late for Sugawara but I think there’s still hope for your director.”

“The audience lives for our banter,” Kei says. “I’m only giving them what they want.”

Tobio snorts. “As if. You looove getting up in Kuroo’s face, and he has some weird compulsion to say dumb shit that sets you off each time. And you always fall for it, hook, line, and sinker. It’s like you two get off doing that together or something.”

“Don’t be vulgar,” Kei wrinkles his nose. “And get off your high horse, the amount of times you and Shoyou had hate sex before you guys started dating gives you no room to lecture.”

Tobio turns his nose up in the absolute snootiest manner. “At least we ended up getting together. Can’t say that about you and Kuroo yet, can I?”

Kei really does choke on his soup this time, and Tobio has to pound him on his back repeatedly. “What the hell, I am _not_ getting together with Kuroo!”

“Uh-huh,” Tobio replies, completely unconvinced, and Kei fumes.

“I won’t! He’s—he’s—”

“Use your words, you can do it.”

“ _Shut up_ . Kuroo Tetsurou is a world-class scam pâtissier whose only selling point is the dramatic factor of his desserts that appeals to the masses the way flashy lights entice little children. He is a menace to the name of proper dessert-making and thinks he’s the suavest man on set because of that ridiculous hairdo, his idiotic smile and his stupid six-pack, and _I am not going to date him_.”

Tobio stares at him, soup spoon halfway to his open mouth before he lowers it, gets up, hustles out of the kitchen and pops back in seconds later holding a large bottle of Cabernet Sauvignon.

“Rude, Tobio.”

“Oh, no, you need this more than me,” Tobio mutters, grabbing two glasses and topping both off generously. “Now drink half of that first before you start talking about Kuroo again.”

And that’s how Shoyou finds them an hour later, slumped over Tobio’s kitchen table, soup pot and bowls empty, and Kei blubbering nonsense about handsome black-haired bakers and exploding desserts.

“I hate him and his— _hic_ —dumb face,” Kei sobs into Shoyou’s shoulder.

“There, there,” Shoyou says, patting him on the head with barely restrained amusement. Tobio squints blearily at his glass, cheeks flushed, and muttering something about fish deboning techniques and Shoyou not cuddling him enough.

“I hate how good his desserts actually taste...have you— _hic_ —have you ever tried his pink champagne cake with strawberry filling and vanilla bean Swiss buttercream? I’d kill for it. I’d kill to have it again. And don’t— _hic_ —don’t get me started on his spiced fig, thyme, and ginger compote.”

“I know,” Shoyou laughs. “I think you should get some rest soon though. Do you want to stay over or should I call Tadashi?”

“Guh,” Kei says, flopping onto the table. Thankfully, Shoyou doesn’t stop fluffing his hair. It’s weirdly comforting. “Why does he hate my baking? Why does he hate my flavours...why aren’t my cupcakes good— _hic_ —enough for him? Ugh, Shoyou, he hates me...he hates me and my cupcakes.”

The hand on his head stills for a fraction of a second, and then he hears Shoyou speak, but it’s so soft and quiet that Kei thinks he might’ve imagined it all in his drunken stupor.

“Oh, Kei...Kuroo’s never hated you or your cupcakes.”

* * *

“I want your cakes to _fly_!” Kuroo declares, arms spread open grandly, and one of the finalists looks like she’s already mentally going through the five stages of grief. “Our super special guest judges today are members of Japan’s National Volleyball team and reigning World Champion gold medalists, so we’re challenging you to create a cake inspired by the sight of the ace leaping through the air to slam down the game-cinching spike!”

“Don’t forget to incorporate the special ingredients, which are our guest judges’ favourite foods: milk bread and agedashi tofu,” Kei says, and Kuroo holds up the platter for the camera. “Bakers, you have three hours. Good luck.”

“Waho, this is so exciting!” Oikawa says, bright-eyed and bushy-tailed as they watch the finalists trip over themselves in their race back to their stations. “I can’t wait to taste them!”

“You and your incorrigible sweet tooth,” Iwaizumi grumbles. “But forget that, can you actually make a cake with milk bread and tofu? It’s not a very appetizing combination.”

“You don’t necessarily have to use the specific ingredient as a whole,” Kei explains. “You can try imitating the flavour or texture to get it as close to the real thing as you can. For example, you can make a fluffy cotton sponge cake with a milk cream filling and top it off with the crispy exterior of the agedashi tofu, add a light frosting that imitates the taste of the tentsuyu sauce, and decorate with a soy sauce reduction drizzle.”

“Everything you just said sounds both delicious and terrifying,” Iwaizumi admits, which makes Kuroo chortle loudly. Kei tries to glower at him, but it’s especially hard to do so today, because the eliminated contestant had accidentally spilled her red curry and black bean cupcake all over Kuroo’s blazer an hour ago, and he’s now reduced to nothing but the tight-fitting black shirt he had on underneath.

Kuroo is, to Kei’s utmost horror, _extra_ devastatingly hot in that tiny shirt.

“Look at you, getting crafty with your ingredients,” Kuroo grins. “Soy sauce drizzle? I’ll admit, I wouldn’t have thought of that. It’s a good idea.”

“Really now,” Kei deadpans, but he’s fighting to keep his expression straight. Did Kuroo just...agree him?

“Really really,” Kuroo says, and turns to Oikawa and Iwaizumi whilst jabbing a thumb back at Kei. “He might not look it, but Mr. Super Serious Grumpy McGrump Pants here is actually one of the most decorated cupcake masters in Japan. He and his brother make the _cutest_ little cupcakes you’ve ever seen.”

“Don’t be silly, they’re not that cute,” Kei says, trying to ignore Oikawa’s cooing. Scratch that, Kuroo isn’t just agreeing with him, he’s _praising_ Kei too. Why is he doing this? Is he trying to flatter him?

“Pay no attention to him,” Kuroo says, already pulling out his phone to show Oikawa pictures of _Moon Cakes_ while Kei goes crazy in silent confusion beside them. Fortunately, his attention is diverted when Ennoshita calls for him to come over and film a quick interaction with one of the bakers.

When he returns, Iwaizumi is alone at the panel, eyeing the agedashi tofu with interest. Kei sits beside him, glad for the absence of one particular baker, but then Iwaizumi suddenly coughs in a way that’s really just an attempt to catch someone’s attention discreetly. Kei watches in amusement as Iwaizumi casts a quick, furtive glance around the studio; one of the finalists’ tiered cakes is underbaked and starting to collapse, and Oikawa and Kuroo are busy pretending to look shocked as Shibayama does some dramatic three-sixty-degree filming to get all the angles of devastation. Once he’s sure everybody is sufficiently distracted, Iwaizumi leans in. Kei notices the blush dusting the volleyball player’s cheeks.

“Listen...I was wondering if you had any good recommendations for places that makes wedding cakes,” Iwaizumi mumbles, and Kei almost slips off his chair in surprise. “Oikawa and I are planning for a wedding next June, so we’re looking for recommendations.”

“Oh—congratulations,” Kei manages. He’s surprised, but only momentarily. Even though neither athlete is wearing any noticeable rings and everyone had watched Iwaizumi cycle through every version of _Asskawa_ , _Crappykawa_ , and _Shittykawa_ while they were getting ready backstage, he can tell through Oikawa and Iwaizumi’s companionable back-and-forths that they had an obvious lifelong friendship, and were likely dating or in some kind of relationship too.

“Thanks,” Iwaizumi says, scratching the back of his head sheepishly. “We’re trying to keep it on the down low, and normally Oikawa would be up in arms with planning and stuff, but he’s doing PT for his knee and he’s kind of tied up with that.”

“Let me give you the card to my friends’ bakery,” Kei suggests, digging through his wallet for one of the cute little business cards Hitoka had designed for their shop. He takes a pen and scribbles Tadashi’s personal phone number on the back in addition to his own. “Tell them I sent you, and they’ll be more than happy to help you out.”

Iwaizumi takes the card, and his eyes go wide.

“Holy shit, you know the people who own _Y &Y Cake Boutique _?”

Something about the way he says the name with revere makes Kei’s chest swell with pride for Tadashi and Hitoka. “I’ve been friends with the head baker since we were kids, and we were friends with his wife since high school. They’re great at what they do.”

“Oikawa loves that place. He’s been obsessed with them ever since a cousin of his ordered a cake for an anniversary.”

“I’m glad to hear that. Despite the hassles that sometimes comes along with it, Tadashi and Hitoka really like making wedding cakes. I recommend them not just because they’re my friends, but because of their talent as well.”

“That’s good to hear,” Iwaizumi says, pocketing the card with a smile. “Thank you, I really appreciate it. I’d ask what kind of cake you’d order from them, but seeing that you and Kuroo are both baking experts, I suspect you guys would want to create your own rather than buying from someone else?”

“...create our own?” Kei repeats slowly, confused. Iwaizumi blinks at him.

“You know, if you guys ever get married…” At Kei’s blank stare, Iwaizumi flounders. “I mean—er—aren’t you and Kuroo...together?” he asks, and time seems to slow as excruciating realization washes over both men; Kei realizing that Iwaizumi thought he and Kuroo were dating, and Iwaizumi realizing he’d gotten it wrong.

“I—I—no—we’re _not_ dating,” Kei splutters, blushing up to his hairline. Iwaizumi’s faring no better, face bright red with embarrassment.

“Oh god, I’m sorry, I didn’t realize, I just assumed you guys were—you know—shit, I totally misread that.”

“Why,” Kei chokes out. “ _How_.” He really needs to know so that whatever he’s doing now, he can put an end to right away.

Iwaizumi deliberates for a moment, and his gaze slides across the studio to where Kuroo is showing Oikawa how to crack an egg one-handed. “Honestly? The dynamic between you two just reminded me of myself and Oikawa. You know, the light banter, nicknames, and whatnot. Plus, Kuroo’s always looking at you.”

“H-he is?”

“You haven’t noticed?”

Not at all, Kei realizes, and even as he hurriedly waves off Iwaizumi’s apologies. The banter and uncalled-for nicknames ring true, but…

Kei really doesn’t want to think about it.

The remainder of the three hours fly by in a daze; the cakes are done, judged, and they select a winner. Yoshida is a young man whose baking blog is dedicated to those trendy, stylish marbled tier cakes, and he almost bursts into tears when Suga announces that he’s won ten thousand dollars on _Super Sugar Wars_.

“Oh my god,” Yoshida says, hands clapped over his face. “Oh my gosh. Okay, okay, everyone, I have—I have to tell you all something. This is something I promised my friends back at home I’d do if I won.”

Behind the cameras, Kei could see Ennoshita frown, but he doesn’t stop rolling. The others look just as clueless as Kei feels, so they all wait for Yoshida to speak. They haven’t had a competitor try to make an announcement before.

“I’ve been a huge fan of _Super Sugar Wars_ since the first season aired, and my roommates and I watched this show _religiously_. We’ve never missed an episode! And after watching it for so long, seeing all of you interact, I just w-want to say...Tsukishima-san!”

Kei jumps, and Yoshida all but shouts, “You’re an amazing baker and I really admire you! Please go out with me!” He immediately bows, so low they can only see the top of his head, and after a beat of silence everybody reacts at the same time.

“Uh, should we cut?” Kinoshita asks. “Can we even film this?”

“Who cares, go and get a close up of Tsukihsima’s face,” Yaku the Floor Manager says gleefully, and gives Lev a quick kick to the ass to get him going. 

“Holy sh—uh, shoot,” Iwaizumi says, managing to censor himself at the last second.

“Oh my, my, _my_ ,” Oikawa whispers, looking positively delighted. Suga barely manages to turn his snort of surprise into a quick cough, and Kei stares at the man bowing at a perfect ninety-degree angle before him with growing dread in the pit of his stomach.

“I’m very f-flattered, Yoshida-san,” he says, forcefully willing himself to stay calm. “But I—”

“It’s alright, Tsukishima-san!” Yoshida interrupts brightly, snapping back upright. He dashes over to the judges’ panel and slides a napkin over to Tsukishima before running back to his spot. “I’m not expecting an answer from you, but it has always been my goal to confess if I won! And if you are interested, please don’t hesitate to call me! I promise I won’t let you down!”

...God, he wants to sink through his seat and _die_. “I see. Thank you. Well...uh...congratulations on your win. Again.”

“Cut!” Ennoshita shouts, blessedly ending the humiliating scene, and quickly ushers both finalists off to the side of the set so they could film their commentary. Kei sits frozen in his seat, staring at the napkin like it’s radioactive. Meanwhile, the others all start pestering him at once.

“Tsukki-kun! Are you going to call him?” Oikawa asks, unreasonably excited at the prospect of budding romance. He’s nearly levitating off his seat.

“Of course not,” Kei forces out, quickly grabbing the napkin and crumpling it in his palm. He can tell everyone on set is secretly listening in, but are wise enough not to say anything in fear of incurring his wrath.

Suga clearly does not care. “Aw, he’ll be devastated,” he chuckles, clapping Kei heartily on the back. “Lookityou, breaking hearts left and right! Cupcake master by day, playboy by night!”

“Stop it,” Kei groans, pushing Suga off him. “You’re making such a fuss.”

“Am I?” Suga hums, waggling his eyebrows at him. “Everyone’s happy for you, though, it’s always nice to receive a confession. Right, Kuroo?”

Kei turns, silently daring Kuroo to say something, anything, about this whole scene, but—but something’s not right.

Kuroo is staring pointedly somewhere over Kei’s shoulder, not making eye contact. His face is neutral but his gaze is cool, and there’s no trace of his usual smirk. The whole line of his shoulders is tense, and Kei can see him fidgeting with the fork on the table.

“Kuroo?” Suga prompts, and Kuroo finally turns. He gives an emotionless little half-smile, one that Kei has never seen before, and it scares him more than he’d like to admit. He tries to search Kuroo’s face, but he gives nothing away, and when Kei notices that Oikawa and Iwaizumi are watching their weird exchange with interest he looks quickly away.

“Of course,” Kuroo murmurs. “It’s very nice.”

His voice is quiet, flat, not at all like the teasing lilt he always does.

Kei hates it.

* * *

He’s still thinking about Kuroo’s expression two days later when he’s back home in Sendai, dazedly piping a tray of cupcakes in the kitchen of _Moon Cakes_. But he’s uncharacteristically distracted today, so he’s probably making the baby rabbits on the sweet berry cupcakes look a little more deranged than their usual cute appearance.

“You’re deep in thought.”

It figures Akiteru would notice, and not for the first time Kei wonders when his older brother got so observant. When they were younger he was the kind of dopey big bro that fell for Kei’s sharp wits and snarky jokes more often than not, but nowadays it’s getting harder and harder to bait him.

“I’m busy piping,” he replies. Akiteru snorts loudly.

“Right, and is that why your rabbit is starting to look like it’s melting off your cupcake?”

Kei looks sharply down, and shit, he’s right, the whole half of the rabbit is sliding off the top because he’s squeezed the piping bag too hard. Again.

“Don’t you have anything better to do?” he huffs, reaching for a cloth. “Like run the business, perhaps?”

“Yeah, but watching my cute baby brother get flustered over rabbit cupcakes is wayyy more entertaining,” Akiteru grins, climbing onto one of the stools. “C’mon, you can tell your big bro what’s up. Are you having an artist’s block with new designs? Did you and Tadashi have another disagreement on fondant colouring again?”

“No, and everyone _knows_ royal blue is better than ice blue.”

“Alright, not even gonna touch that one. Oh, let me guess, girl troubles! No, wait, boy troubles. Oh my god, it’s totally a boy, isn’t it?”

“ _No_ ,” Kei says, just as a huge blob of frosting explodes out from the end of the piping bag and splatters everywhere on the countertop. Akiteru laughs so hard he chokes.

“You’re so easy.”

“Shut up.”

“Okay, alright, for real though, what’s eating at you? Did something happen?”

Kei glares down at his berry cupcakes, his malformed rabbits, and leaking piping bag. “A contestant confessed to me on set after he won the competition, and Kuroo got weird about it.”

Akiteru’s eyes widened. “No way, someone saw how you were on the show and still confessed—ow! Ow! Okay, sorry!”

Kei twirls the rolling pin in his hands, unimpressed. “Try again.”

Akiteru pouts, rubbing his arm. “You are so uncute nowadays, ugh. Figures Kuroo would be involved in your problems though.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“You’ve always got a sassy thing or two to say about him, you know. If I got a dime for every time you said his name I could retire and move to Roppongi Hills and eat caviar for breakfast.”

“Gross,” Kei says reflexively. “And I do not. Talk about Kuroo a lot.”

Akiteru gives him a look that says Kei is fooling exactly no one. “Fine, then what’s all this about Kuroo being weird about you getting confessed to? Did he say something about it?”

“No. Actually, he had nothing to say about it at all,” Kei mutters. “Normally he’d be teasing me about stuff like that, but he’s…” Kuroo’s emotionless face surfaces in his memories again, unbidden. “He was weirdly quiet about it all.”

Akiteru taps his chin thoughtfully. “Maybe he didn’t like it. That you got a confession, that is.”

“What? He’s the biggest flirt on set, he’s got no room to talk.”

“Maybe, but his flirting doesn’t seem all that serious. Honestly, on the show he just seems friendly to everyone. But being flirty is different than confessing, right?”

“I guess.”

“Maybe he’s jealous because he likes you.”

Now _that’s_ a thought, and Kei bursts out laughing without meaning to. “Kuroo? Jealous because he likes _me_? No way. He doesn’t even give my cupcakes the time of day. As if he would ever like me.”

Even as he says it, his stomach goes ahead and does these god-awful flips at the thought of Kuroo potentially liking him. God, he's screwed.

Akiteru’s clearly surprised. “What? Are you sure? He did do that cupcake featurette on his Youtube channel a while back, didn’t you see?”

“What? No.” He hasn’t looked on Kuroo’s channel since...well, since a long time ago.

Akiteru looks like he’s pondering something for a moment, and then he grins, sneaky. “Look it up,” he says, sliding off the stool. “I think you might change your mind about him.”

Kei stares at his older brother as he leaves the kitchen, mouth opening and closing wordlessly, more questions in his mind than he’d originally started out with. Stupid Akiteru and his stupid ideas. One thing’s for sure, though—there is no way in hell he’s going to check out that video.

* * *

Kei lasts a whopping total of three hours before he caves and hunkers down in the empty kitchen after closing with his phone, earbuds, and a bunch of sample cupcake flavours in hand. He vows to himself that it’s only because Akiteru planted the idea inside his head, thus distracting him from his work, and the only way to stop it was to see what all the video is about.

Kuroo’s channel has changed since he last visited, but it’s definitely been a few years, so it isn’t surprising to see a new icon and banner for his page, a ton of new playlists and uploads, and videos with cool new graphics and higher quality available for his fans. Kei scrolls through them, taking note of the ridiculous thumbnails and silly titles until he sees one called ‘The Best Cupcake Ever - Pt. 5 of Kuroo’s Recommendations’.

He clicks on it before he could chicken out.

It starts with a blurry shot of someone looking standing too close to the front of the camera and Kuroo sitting behind a kitchen counter with a cat grin on his face and another familiar, black-haired man.

_“Oh ho ho?”_

_“Oh ho ho ho.”_

_“Oh ho ho ho ho!”_

Kei is already regretting everything.

_“Welcome back, everyone. Been a while! Hope you guys had a nice relaxing break, I know I sure did—”_

_“Tetsu, you were hungover for two days and ate clam chowder the entire time.”_

_“NOBODY ASKED YOU, KOUTAROU. Anyway! Like I said, been a while. I know y’all have been begging me to do a cupcake episode, so here I am today, ready to delve into the world of cupcake goodness with my two very good friends.”_

Kei knows those people. Not personally, but Kuroo’s friendship with pâtissier Bokuto Koutarou and his boyfriend Akaashi Keiji, head chef of a Michelin-star restaurant, is pretty well known. Bokuto is spinning around on his barstool while Akaashi looks like he too is regretting his involvement in the video.

_“Special shoutout goes to my favourite cupcake bakery of all time, who so kindly sponsored us with some samples for this episode. Everyone, say thank you to Moon Cakes from Sendai, Miyagi for their contribution!”_

...Holy shit. He is going to _kill_ Akiteru.

_“These are so cute!”_

On camera, Bokuto’s already got the bakery box torn open to reveal six of Tsukishima’s signature cupcakes. He doesn’t remember ever getting in touch with Kuroo about sponsoring cupcakes for his video, which meant that Akiteru was the one who handled it. Which, well, _is_ technically something Akiteru would take care of, because he’s always been better at the whole business and marketing and social media side of things, whereas Kei is just content to drown himself in new creations and designs instead.

...does he really want to sit here and listen to Kuroo judge his cupcakes? Again?

A good chunk of the video has gone by whilst his brain was running on overdrive, so when he tunes back in they’re already cutting into the last cupcake in the set.

_“I think this is my favourite one so far. The moistness of the cupcake is evident. The strawberry filling is very fresh.”_

_“Oh, wow, would you look at that—the ever-serious Akaashi is actually smiling over a cupcake!”_

_“Akaashi! I’ll make you cupcakes too! Even tastier ones!”_

_“Please get a hang of baking large cakes without burning them first, Bokuto-san.”_

_“Akaashiyoupromisedyouwouldn’tbringthatup—”_

_“Listen, Koutarou, Moon Cakes are famous for their flavours; there’s no way you can match that yet.”_

_“Tetsurou!!!”_

_“I agree. There’s something to be said about good flavours being the backbone of the dessert.”_

_“And there you have it, folks. These are cupcakes endorsed by award-winning chef Akaashi Keiji, so be sure to check them out! Aw, c’mon, Kou, stop pouting.”_

_“Nuh-uh.”_

_“Tsukishima Kei literally specializes in making cupcakes. Hell, they even call him the Cupcake Genius. Even I can’t nail the taste and textures the way he can.”_

Kei isn’t sure he’s breathing anymore. His fingers clutch at his phone, so tight he’s afraid he might actually crack the screen. In the video, Kuroo holds up the remainder of the cupcake delicately, smiling down at the impeccable swirl of buttercream frosting.

_“It’s fun to go big on the look and taste, but I will say one thing—sometimes it’s the small ones that really getcha. And it’s not always easy to make a simple, perfect cupcake.”_

* * *

Kei's not really sure how he's going to face Kuroo on set.

There’s already the weirdness of the last episode after the confession, but now he’s come to the realization that Kuroo, in fact, doesn't actually _hate_ his cupcakes—or at least, doesn't hate them anymore—and this throws the whole point of him bantering and battling against Kuroo out the window entirely.

Kei won't lie; there's always been a small, ugly little insecurity that rears its head every time he and Kuroo clash over baking, where he can only hope his snark is loud enough to hide his fear. It’s the fear of never being good enough, the curse of trying hard but only to remain in the shadows, and to only be plain and boring and simple with his beloved cupcakes, especially in the eyes of someone whose work he once—okay, _still_ admired.

But evidently, that's not the case here.

And he needn't worry about what to say to Kuroo either, because the morning he arrives on set for their last stretch of filming, Kuroo is already sitting at the judges' panel, a small blue box sitting on the otherwise empty table.

"Tsukki!" He calls, and Kei sidled cautiously over. Kuroo appears to be in a good mood despite the early hour, even if he does look tired. There’s no trace of the distant detachedness from their last episode. "C'mere, I want you to try something."

"What is it?" Kei asks warily, and for a good reason. The last time Kuroo wanted to "try something", he and Shoyou had gotten four mixing bowls' worth of cake batter splattered all over the studio ceiling. They had to run and get Lev to help scrape it all off before Ennoshita could notice.

"Don't put on that frowny face," Kuroo teases. He slides the little blue box over and hands Kei a plastic fork. "Here, you'll be needing that."

Kei glares at him, suspicious, and carefully peels the lid off.

"If something jumps out at me…"

But nothing does, because inside the box is a very small, very cute little slice of crumble. Kei stares at it.

"Uh... what's this?"

"Taste it first," Kuroo encourages, and Kei does so with only a brief moment of hesitation. The top of the crumble is nicely browned and crispy, but once his fork sinks past the exterior the inside is soft and gooey. The filling is a dark reddish-purple, and when Kei puts the bite in his mouth, he can pick apart the flavour immediately.

"Cherry? And...some kind of liquor."

"Oh, good work," Kuroo says, pleased. "This is a sweet cherry and rosé wine crumble. Just a little something I'm testing out. What do you think?"

"It's good," Kei admits. Kuroo huffs.

"Of course I know it's good," Kuroo says, and before Kei could snap at him for being full of himself, he adds, "I wanna know what _you_ think of it. All of your opinions. Good and bad."

"Why?" Kei demands.

"No reason," Kuroo shrugs. "Just curious."

_Just curious_. Kei doesn't know what to make of it, but he's too bewildered to question it further. He takes another bite and chews slowly, thinking, aware of Kuroo watching him.

"The cherry is nice and strong. You’ve managed to not let the crumble too soggy, so that’s a plus. Can't really taste the rosé, but I don't think it's detrimental that it's not a big flavour. Top is nice and crispy, not over-baked. So, uh...yeah. It’s good."

Kuroo's eyes have a little bit of gold in them, Kei realizes. The little flecks of gold are almost lost amidst dark brown irises, but they’re there, bright and beautiful. They’re also sitting rather close to each other, and Kei quickly eases back, heart pounding in his chest. What is he doing?

Kuroo nods, thoughtful. "Thanks for the feedback," he says. "Would you mind tasting some more samples next time I make something?"

"What?” Kei says, but Kuroo’s already giving him expectant little looks, and he folds faster than a house of cards. “I...sure, I guess."

They're interrupted by the stage crew walking on set and Ennoshita guiding their guest judge towards the panel, and by the time they start filming Kei has no time left to ponder what all that had been about.

* * *

By the next episode, Kuroo’s dessert-testing request comes in full swing.

The crumble is followed by a sugary sweet red velvet brownie that’s just the perfect kind of ooey gooey on the inside. Next is a juicy plum and chocolate mousse with the perfect balance of tart and sweet. Then he gets a salted caramel apple pie, a black forest trifle, an orange and chocolate fruit cake, a strawberry shortcake, and one time Kuroo makes a fresh mixed berry pavlova that's so good Kei actually inhales the whole thing before he gives his review.

It’s not long before everyone starts to notice Kuroo’s gift of baked goods for Kei.

“Tsukishima-kun,” Lev whines, chin propped up on the table as he gives Kei the saddest puppy-eyes, complete with a wobbly lower lip. Unfortunately, Kei grew up with Akiteru, who gives him the exact same look every time Kei refuses to hang out and spend ‘brotherly bonding time’ together, so he’s basically immune.

“No,” Kei says, and busies himself with another mouthful of cheesecake. It’s an absolutely gorgeous cake, so soft and creamy and the way Kei’s fork sinks through decadent lemon topping with his first press nearly made him groan out loud. He has absolutely no intention of sharing.

“Please,” Lev pleads. “It looks sooo good.”

“Ask Kuroo to give you a slice.”

“He won’t, I already tried!”

“Well, tough luck.”

“Hinata-kun!” Lev shouts across the studio. “Hinata-kun, Tsukishima-kun’s not sharing!”

Shoyou, who’s camped out behind one of the giant set pieces with Tanaka and Nishinoya for no reason other than to be nosy, cackles noisily and points at Kei.

“I wouldn’t get your hopes up! There’s a reason why Tobio and I call him _Stingyshima_ whenever we go out for tapas! The bastard doesn’t share!”

“Maybe your arms are just too short to reach,” Kei fires back, and Takana has to keep Shoyou from launching himself at Kei by the back of his pants. Nishinoya laughs and laughs, and Kei rolls his eyes. “Don’t you lot have anything better to do? Like grilling some abnormally large animal, or whatever it is you get up to on your dumb barbeque show?”

“Hey! _Rolling Grills_ is not dumb! It’s a man’s show! Only the manliest of men can enjoy the excitement of tossing a hunk of meat onto the flames and watch it go _fawoosh! Whoom! Whabam!_ ”

“What on earth are you cooking that’s going _whabam_ ,” Kei demands, making a mental note to never visit them on set. Nishinoya shrugs.

“I dunno but next week we’re gonna grill bison.”

“Yeah!” Shoyou cheers. “Bison meat! Bison meat!”

“Can you pipsqueaks even _lift_ a bison leg.”

When Kuroo rejoins them on set after his bathroom break, it’s to the sight of Tanaka yanking both Shoyou and Nishinoya back, Lev trying to sneak a bite of cheesecake, and Kei hoarding the tiny slice of dessert like his life depended on it.

“I take it you’re liking the cake?” he asks, sliding back into his seat. He leans over and props his chin on the flat of his palm, smiling softly at Kei. Against his will, Kei’s face goes red. He hastily puts the cake down and pretends he’s nonchalant about the whole thing.

“I do,” he says, and doesn’t miss the way Kuroo’s eyes practically light up.

* * *

He’s back in Sendai the following weekend, and goes out for brunch with Tadashi and Hitoka on Saturday morning at their usual haunt; they have yet to find any café in the region that can hold a candle to the deliciousness of Asahi’s crêpes. They eat and chat and convince Asahi to show them the new cold brew he’s been working on, and then swing back to _Moon Cakes_ like they usually do to mess around in the kitchen and stuff themselves with more baked goods. It’s a perfectly normal day, so Kei supposes that’s why the shock of seeing Kuroo talking with Akiteru inside his bakery is so much more intense.

“Ah, there he is!” Akiteru says. “Toldya he wouldn’t be long.”

“Heya, Tsukki,” Kuroo calls, cheeky. Kei’s first thought is that he looks so effing _good_ in casual clothes; the denim jacket, red hoodie, and tapered dark jeans that roll up at his ankles should be made illegal. “Oh, you’re entertaining friends. My apologies, I didn’t know you were busy today.”

“Nah, we just got back from a nice, relaxing brunch,” Tadashi says, like the traitor that he is. “I’m Tadashi, Kei’s friend, and this is my wife, Hitoka.”

“A pleasure,” Kuroo replies, gamely shaking Tadashi’s hand and giving Hitoka a kiss on the back of hers. She laughs, amused.

“We’ve heard so much about you, Kuroo-san.”

“Have you now?” Kuroo purrs, flashing a grin that’s purely teeth. “Good things, I hope?”

“Oh yeah,” Tadashi smirks, and Kei wants to bang his head on the window. “Kei talks about you _all_ the time.”

“All the time! Why, Tsukki, I’m so flattered.”

“Don’t listen to any of them,” Kei says. He pushes his way into the bakery, but nobody bats an eye. Not for the first time, he wonders when his trademark stink face had lost its effectiveness on his friends and brother. “What are you doing here, Kuroo? You live in Tokyo.”

“Well, thought I’d come by for a visit. Take a day trip, see the sights and all that. Oh, and to give you my latest attempt.”

“You came all the way to Sendai to give me _a dessert?_ ”

“Well, now that I’m here, I’m thinking I should pick up a few cupcakes too!” Kuroo says brightly. “What are you recommendations, Akiteru-san?”

“Not to worry, I’ll set you up,” Akiteru says, waggling his eyebrows. “Kei, why don’t you give Kuroo a tour of the back?”

“I’m not—Tadashi and Hitoka are here—” Kei begins, but Tadashi lets out the fakest gasp and clutches at Hitoka’s hand.

“Honey, I toootally forgot, we left the oven on at home!”

“Oh no!” Hitoka replies, though she can barely keep a straight face. They are such enablers. “We’d better hurry back!”

“I regret giving Iwaizumi your card,” Kei hisses at them, and Tadashi smirks.

“Too late, no take backs! Oikawa already loves our place, so hah!” And then they’re gone, flouncing away back home, and Kei could only stare in horror as his best friends abandon him to his peril.

“Ah, Kei, why’re you standing around like that for? Such a bad host,” Akiteru scolds, and the next thing he knows he and Kuroo are pushed into the kitchen. “Hurry up and show Kuroo-san around before we open!”

The door swings shut behind him, and Kei mentally hopes the force of his glare will set Akiteru's pants on fire.

“Wow, cute place,” Kuroo says. “Whose idea was it to name it _Moon Cakes?_ ”

“My mom’s,” Kei mutters, pushing his glasses up the bridge of his nose. “She was our first sponsor.”

“That is adorable,” Kuroo says, and Kei doesn’t know how to handle the look on the other man’s face. It’s soft and disarming and makes him want to clutch Kuroo’s hands and kiss him stupid.

“So,” he says, for a lack of better things to talk about. “You have—a dessert for me?”

“I do,” Kuroo nods, and presents a small box to him. It’s light pink and has a very small bow on top. “Had to borrow the container from my cousin’s kid, so don’t lose it.”

“As if,” Kei mumbles, and carefully lifts the lid off. He stares.

It’s a strawberry shortcake and vanilla cream frosted cupcake.

He doesn’t have to taste it to know that it’s his recipe.

“What is this?” Kei finds himself whispering. There’s a weird charge in the air between them, practically crackling with energy.

“My best attempt at your cupcake,” Kuroo answers quietly. Kei shakes his head.

“No, what is— _this_.” He gestures awkwardly with one hand. “Why are you baking for me? Why are you giving me desserts? What—what do you hope to achieve from giving me something of my own design?”

Kuroo shrugs, rubbing the back of his neck. “I wanted to see if I could do it. If I could make a cupcake as well as you do.”

The air feels like it’s vanished from Kei’s lungs. “And why,” he whispers, “Would you want to try that?”

“Well, partly because I had this little epiphany after we filmed a certain episode,” Kuroo admits, and Kei’s heart leaps in his chest. “I won’t lie to you, I’m a selfish man. I’m so used to your attention on me all the time when we film, so when that baker said all those things, and it made you look at him with such expression…”

He pauses, shrugs, and gives Kei a wry grin. “But there’s something else too. A little orange birdie and his perpetually grumpy crow boyfriend may have let me in on a little secret. They told me that a very smart, very talented baker thought that I hated their cupcakes. And that I hated them.”

“Shoyou and Tobio are dead meat,” Kei says, and it draws a chuckle from Kuroo.

“Hey now, they’re only trying to help. I’m glad they told me. I never once thought that you believed I hated your work—it was kinda upsetting, to be honest. I tease and exchange jabs with you on the show because you’re funny and smart and you give back as good as you get it. But if you disliked all those jokes, then I truly apologize. I’ve got nothing but respect for you, Tsukishima.”

“That’s not it,” Kei whispers. He looks down at the little cupcake. To think that one little dessert caused all this uproar.

“Then what?” Kuroo asks. He steps closer. “What have I done to make you think that? Tell me, please, because I mean it, I don’t hate you Tsukishima, I never have, and honestly I should’ve just told you from the start that I’m in lov—”

“Years ago,” Kei blurts out. He can’t take this right now. He has to let Kuroo know, before Kuroo tries to say something they'd both regret. “You did a video. A collab, I think. You said something cruel about my cupcake.”

Kuroo blinks. “I—what video?”

Kei sighs. There’s a bitter, resigned taste in the back of his mouth. It figures that Kuroo wouldn’t even remember it.

“I don’t—it was a review, I think. With some frat boy Youtuber. You guys reviewed my cupcake, and I—shit, I don’t know. It’s so stupid when I say it out loud now, god. Just—this whole thing is a mess, and—”

Kuroo reaches out and grasps his wrist, light enough for Kei to pull away if he wanted too, but firm enough to hold his attention.

“Tsukishima,” Kuroo says. “Did you watch that video to the end?”

Kei’s silence is telling enough, and Kuroo exhales slowly, a long stream of air. He seems to be weighing his words carefully. “Watch the video. Till the very end, or at least to the end of the review. Then call me, okay?”

Kei nods. He’s not sure he trusts his voice right now.

“That’s a promise,” Kuroo says, gentle. He gives Kei’s wrist a squeeze before letting go, leaving a tingling feeling from where his fingers were before. “I’ll be waiting.”

Kei nods, not trusting his voice, and Kuroo gives him one last smile before he ducks out of the kitchen, leaving Kei with nothing more than the cupcake and a mind buzzing with half-formed thoughts.

He’s not sure how long he stands there, but then Akiteru is poking his head into the kitchen, calling his name.

“Kei, is everything alright? Kuroo left awfully quickly.”

He takes a deep breath, and clutches the box a little tighter.

“Can you open the store?” he asks. “I have to look something up.”

He doesn’t wait for Akiteru to answer before rushing out into the hallway and into their office.

* * *

_[13:56]_

_“Mm, kinda boring. It’s not bad, but what’s the point of baking if you’re not going to use big flavours?”_

_“Bruh, exactly! I’m telling you, I don’t know why my girlfriend likes all this cutesy cupcake shit. Thing’s just a girly little—”_

_“Well, hang on, just because it’s little and cute and girly doesn’t mean it’s not good, you know? Actually, the overall quality of the cupcake was made very well. And I’m probably biased because I tend to go overboard on flavours and such, so I’m not used to simple things.”_

_“Wait, what? Dude, don’t tell me you actually like this.”_

_“I’m a baker too, bro, this is my career. I know what good cupcakes taste like.”_

_“But you make all those actual cool desserts, like the one that floats!”_

_“Oh, trust me, you don’t want to know how bad the first batch of that pistachio cake tasted. But that’s not the point. Looks aren’t always everything. Your girlfriend has pretty good taste if she likes Moon Cakes, though, because I heard the head pâtissier is signing onto a show on the Baking Network. That’s how famous he is.”_

_“Bruh, no way!”_

_“Yeah. And honestly, you know what? This ‘cutesy’ cupcake is delicious. I’d love to meet the guy who made it someday, and tell him just how much I enjoyed his desserts.”_

* * *

He calls Kuroo after work. _Moon Cakes_ is about to close down for the night, the front is no longer bustling with shoppers popping by for the freshest batch of cupcakes, the bakers are methodically cleaning the kitchen, and Akiteru has been giving Kei curious, sidelong glances the entire day. But right now, Kei is hiding in the privacy of their shared office once more, cell phone pressed to his ear, calling a number he rarely texts and has never dialed before.

Kuroo picks up after the third ring.

“Hey there, Tsukishima.”

Kei takes a deep breath. “I watched it.”

“Did you?” Kuroo’s voice is low, soft. “What did you think?”

“I think...all this time, we should’ve just talked to each other. And I should’ve been honest with you. I'm sorry, Kuroo.”

Kuroo’s laugh is a delight to hear. “Hey, it's alright. We're talking now, aren't we? And honest talk is good, isn’t it?”

“Speaking of honesty. The cupcake you made? I loved it,” Kei says, feeling a little grin tug at the corners of his mouth when he hears Kuroo’s surprised intake of air. “It’s delicious. Good job.”

Kuroo is silent on the other end, but only for a moment. “Tell me more,” he says, warm and sweet as honey. “Tell me everything, Kei.”

Kei does.

* * *

“Thirty minutes left, bakers!” Tobio calls across the studio, and though he probably meant to sound encouraging, he somehow manages to make the time cue sound more like a threat than anything else. One of the bakers nearly drops her bowl of buttercream in fear. Kei hides his laughter behind his palm.

“Oof,” Kuroo winces, and pats Tobio’s back companionably. “Maybe...not so violently, in the future.”

“I’m not being violent, I’m just being loud! You have to be loud if you want to work in a kitchen!”

“Yes, but you see, your majesty, most people aren’t accustomed to the crazy competitive kitchen life you cooking geniuses like to put yourself through,” Kei teases. “Do try and have some mercy on us poor commoners.”

“I can and will use a spatula against you, Jerkshima,” Tobio warns. “Ask Shoyou, he knows what I’m talking about.”

“Aw, gross, I am _not_ interested in what you two get up to with spatulas—”

“Alright!” Kuroo says loudly, throwing his arms out and dramatically shoving Kei and Tobio away from each other with the expression of a babysitter who started off thinking their kids were going to be angels, but was quickly realizing they were the spawn of Satan instead. “I know the theme for the Cake Round is ‘murder-mystery’, but that is figurative and not meant to be taken seriously. Also, if anyone’s gonna use a spatula on Kei, it’ll definitely be me—”

“Shut up if you know what’s good for you,” Kei retorts as Tobio pretends to gag.

“Why are we even filming the bakers?” Yaku asks. “This is top-notch entertainment right here.”

“It is, but I’m afraid we’ll have to put in a request for a higher maturity rating,” Ennoshita replies blandly. “And I’m not about to air footage that’ll mentally scar our viewers.”

“Alright, we’ll behave,” Kei relents, and tries not to feel offended by the stunned stares he gets his way. This new relationship business with Kuroo might be making him mushy, but it’s alright; he gets to make out with his hot pâtissier boyfriend in the dressing rooms on set and people will still leave them alone because they have no idea how to handle the two most chaotic judges on set dating each other. 

“So long as the winner doesn’t try to do another public confession for you again,” Kuroo mutters darkly. Kei smirks.

“Oh? So you were jealous.”

“Shut it, you,” Kuroo huffs, but he laces his fingers through Kei’s under the table anyway, thumb stroking teasingly across the back of his hand. “I’m just a dumb man in love, alright? You can’t blame me.”

Behind Kuroo, Kei could see Tobio snickering and mouthing _gross_ at them, but he’s in too good of a mood to care.

“Ah, you admit that you’re dumb after all.”

“You know, I _was_ going to suggest that since this is the last episode and we’ll be done filming for at least a couple of weeks, we could hole up at my place and bake up a storm and have copious amounts of super hot kitchen s—”

“Lev, turn that boom mic away,” Ennoshita calls.

“—but if you’re going to be this sassy the entire time, I don’t think I wanna to hang out with you!”

“You don’t mean that,” Kei murmurs, squeezing Kuroo’s hand in his own. He offers the smallest of smiles, hidden away from the cameras, because while their banter and jokes may be for the audience, some things are for Kuroo, and Kuroo only. “We need to catch up on a lot of lost time.”

Kuroo’s fake pout softens, and not for the first time Kei can’t help but think just how good Kuroo looks, with his dumb but admittedly soft hair, his sneaky but endearing cat grin, and they way he'd charmed his way into Kei's heart with the best desserts in all of Tokyo.

“We’ll have plenty of time over the break,” he promises. “So don’t you worry.”

Warmth floods Kei’s heart, and he opens his mouth to respond, but there’s a shriek as one of the dowels in the baker’s cake snaps and everyone gasps collectively as half the cake goes cascading onto the floor.

“Oh no!” Sugawara cries. “Tachibana-san’s cake has taken a critical hit!”

“Yikes,” Tobio mutters, actually looking sympathetic.

Kuroo, the dramatic asshole, wails and leaps over, trying to cover Kei’s eyes with his hands but really is just trying to smudge his glasses along the way. “Kei! Don’t look! It’s a sight too ghastly for someone as lovely as you!”

And Kei laughs and laughs and laughs, squirming in his boyfriend’s arms as pandemonium descends on the studio.

He gets the feeling that everything's going to be just fine.

**Author's Note:**

> None of the baked goods are real, but half the fun of baking shows is listening to the bakers list all the crazy ingredients they’re going to use and then trying to imagine how it tastes after that. My favourite one to describe was the mapo tofu cake because I feel like it could actually kill a man.
> 
> Rejected baking themed rounds include: Willy Wonka-inspired desserts, "angry food" instead of comfort food, cupcakes made using things found in a college student's mini-fridge, and cake made with so much liquor the judges would blackout on set.
> 
> Thank you for reading!


End file.
